Right Now
by StoryNeverTold
Summary: I own him. Even if it's just for this one moment. Right now is all that matters. And right now, I own him. - When Brendan&Ste get home from a night at the club, Ste gives his all to Brendan,who then teaches him the real meaning of control. Graphic scenes.


**A/N: Okay, this is a one-shot that I wrote while I was stuck with my Brendan's life fic. Don't know if it's any good, but T said that she loved it ;) If it's not in character, then I apologise, but I get my characterisation from mine and T's roleplay version of Brendan and Ste, so...**

**I'm writing the authors note and uploading this fic in the library, which is quite awkward as I'm sat next to an old man and a 10 year old boy. The 10 year old is playing games, but keeps looking at my screen. He entered a mere child, and will be leaving a man..with a lot of knowledge about the goings on in gay men's bedrooms. anyway...There's a bit of BDSM in here, and it's a bit...rough and very graphic. if you don't like that kind of stuff, feel free to leave.**

**Dedicated to T, obviously, and to anyone reading this. oh, and to Tash, yeah, tell your alter ego to suck on this, eh! ;) I do not own the characters blah blah blah, but the whole idea does come from my sordid mind. and my alter ego's.**

I own him. Even if it's just for this one moment. Right now is all that matters. And right now, I own him. He's mine to claim and fuck and abuse right now. And the best part? He fucking loves it. It was him that suggested it in the first place. We were in the living room, just back from a hectic night of work at the club and he kissed me, full on, his tongue in my mouth, hand in my hair, and then he pulled away. The next thing I felt was his hot, wet tongue against my earlobe, just before he whispered in a low, sultry tone.

"Control me…"

I thought control was something I always have? But anyway, his statement meant I could take him completely, own every last ounce of him, do what I like with him. There were no limits, not after he'd given me this kind of power. I could control him completely.

So I did. I pushed my lips against his, slamming him forcefully into the way, biting and licking at his lips. All he could do was moan helplessly and hold onto my hair, pressing his fingers into my scalp.

I grabbed the hem of his tee after I broke away and practically tore it off him, throwing it aside. I spent a few seconds admiring his perfect skin, practically hairless as it was, skinny and tanned. I teased him a lot about his lack of muscle but when I look at him now, with a body perfect to be bent and controlled, I wouldn't have him any other way.

I dragged him towards my bedroom, my lust and desire for him taking over any other possible feeling I could have towards him. I shoved him into my bedroom with one hard push and closed the door. Sleep would get no look in tonight, not if I got my way, and I was going to control him. Just like he'd 'asked', or just like I had planned, more like.

I walked over to the set of drawers and took something out of them. He stayed where he was, stood at the foot of my bed, like a good little pet, but his lustful eyes had taken on a somewhat curious edge, tracking me and following me across the room. I walked back to him, which leads me to where I am right now. Stood in front of him, staring at him, practically penetrating him with my gaze alone.

I hold my hand up to show the thin black tie dangling off my index finger. He wets his lips and looks at me, like he's imagining every little thing we - _I _- could use that tie for. I can almost see right into his mind through his eyes. Almost. He always keeps a little bit of his thoughts, of himself, out of my grip… But I'll claim it one day.

I stare at him evenly and it's almost like we're having some weird staring contest. Whoever blinks first loses. I'd carry on playing, stare him down until he looks away if I could be bothered, but, no matter how much my brain would love to play some sick twisted game with him, it's not my mind in the lead right now. My dick and my lust have the control. I wet my lips and speak for the first time since we got into my flat.

"On your knees." I order.

He obeys, dropping to his knees, staring up at me with glossy eyes. I let my mouth curl into a half smile at how submissive and perfect he is. How he is mine. _Mine_.

"Hands behind your head…" My second order of the night.

I make sure my tone is cool, calm but dominant and controlling. And I especially make sure not to let how horny I am seep into my voice. But I imagine the giant erection I am sporting gives my game away… His hands are shaky, but I watch him as he raises them behind his head, never breaking his gaze from me. I lean down and grab his hands. They're hot and clammy. I tie them together with the tie, and then bind them to the frame of the bed. He's completely bound and restricted. His breathing is so fucking heavy though, that I can feel it on my neck as I'm tying his wrists together. I almost whimper. Shit. I nearly lost control.

I pull back and admire my prize. My Stephen. _MY _Stephen. He stares at me, waiting for the next order. He looks so fucking hot like that, that I have the temptation to just untie him and fuck him, right here. But there would be no point in anything if I did. I'm in control. I admire him some more for a little while longer until I speak again. My dominating tone never wavering, even though all I can think about is cumming inside of him, hearing his moans, his cries, looking at him, seeing him so submissive and - fuck. I have to stop this trail of thought, unless I want to cum before we've even started.

"Open your mouth."

He does. He lets his jaw drop and his eyes never leave mine. That is until I move my hands down to unfasten my trousers. His eyes are down there, then. I step out of my trousers and ever so slowly slide my boxers down, trying to stop myself from shuddering as my knuckles brush against my dick. I let them fall to the floor, staring at Stephen, watching him, mouth open, hands tied behind him, shirtless, erection straining through his jeans, his eyes on my dick. This is how he should _always _look, I decide.

I step out of my boxers and move towards him. I can hear him breathing erratically and once I move closer, I can feel it on my dick. His hot, fast breathing. My dick is already glistening with pre-cum and the urge inside of me is becoming stronger. I need him.

"Tongue out…" And still my masterful tone hasn't wavered.

He obeys, whimpering a little with need. I press the tip of my dick against his tongue and he licks away the pre-cum. I let a small, low moan escape but it doesn't mean I'm not in control. I am. I move one of my hands and grip a fistful of his hair, rather hard, and he whimpers a little. I don't care if it hurts him. I am in control. Not him.

With a grip on his head now, I push my dick into his mouth and he moans. Almost as loudly as I do. He closes his lips around me and I feel the hot, wet pressure of his mouth around my dick. I blink to clear my vision and use my hand that's in his hair as leverage. I start thrusting into his mouth. I let out a series of low, throaty moans as I feel my dick hit the back of his throat. He gags a few times, but I know Stephen well. He is more than capable of taking my full length. He moans and it vibrates right through me.

I tangle my other hand in his hair and start thrusting a little harder, feeling myself getting closer already. He gags more and keeps making little helpless whimpers. I throw my head back and let the white, hot orgasm take over my entire body, cumming hard into his mouth. He chokes a little and I gasp for air. I pull out of his mouth and look down at him.

"Sw…Swallow…" My dominating tone has gone. I'm left with a breathless whisper.

He swallows, moaning as he does so, and then gasps for air.

"…Oh…fuck…Brendan…" He stares up at me, panting. No, no, Stephen…you're not doing _anything _without my say so.

"I…didn't say you could talk…" I give him a serious look and he closes his mouth.

His erection is still straining through his trousers, more so now. He gives me a pleading look but I just chuckle softly.

"Don't worry…I'm not done with you yet, Stephen…"

He wets his lips and lets a little smile creep onto his face. I untie him but he doesn't move. Good lad. I trained him well.

"Stand." My breathing is back on track and the control is back in my voice.

He stands up and shakily wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He stares at me, eyes burning with desire. I unbutton his trousers and slide them down over his thighs, admiring the curve of his muscles, the shade of his skin, the way his boxers fit, the way the material strains over his erection.

I slip my hand inside his boxers and grip his dick tightly. I feel him pulsating in my hand and he thrusts into me a little. I grab his hip with my other hand to stop him from moving and start pumping his dick. He throws his head back and cries out.

"Oh fuck! Yes! Brendan! Aahh!"

He's too noisy. I retract my hand and take a step back. He looks at me, pleading and desperate.

"I didn't give you permission to speak," I tell him, a judgemental tinge slipping into my voice. He looks apologetic but does not speak. "Are you going to break that rule again?"

He shakes his head and presses his lips together. I nod.

"Good."

I step towards I'm again and return to my previous actions. He makes a lot of loud moans and gasps but I'll let that slip. After a little while I stop and look at him, removing my hand.

"Turn around."

He whimpers a little and does as I say, turning around, giving me a good view of that tight arse of his. I pull his boxers down and he moans, seemingly certain that I'm going to fuck him now. Oh, Stephen… you have a lot to learn. But it's okay, I don't mind teaching him… I pick the tie up and move around, tying his hands to the frame of the bed again, so he is bent over now. I walk back over to my trousers, and take my belt out of the loopholes, holding it in my hands. He watches me, and gasps when he seems me pick the belt up. He whimpers and looks forward, closing his eyes. See, Stephen, I'm going to show you the _real _meaning of the word 'control'.

I stand beside him and grip his dick with one hand. I start pumping it at the same time as I bring my belt down on the skin of his ass. There's a crack of leather and he cries out in pain, but mixed with pleasure. I watch his ass grow redder, as a strip of raw skin appears on the cheeks. I keep pumping his dick as I bring the belt down again, and he throws his head back, tears rolling down his face. But his mouth hands open and he's moaning. He loves it, no matter what his tears and cries of pain suggest. I bring the belt down on his ass one last time, hard, making tiny drops of blood appear on his skin. I throw the belt aside and study his face. His lips are swollen, he's blushing, moaning, but crying. He's completely at my control and mercy. I'm hard as fuck again…

"Open your eyes."

He does and looks at me. His eyes are red and teary, but full of lust and need.

"Sore?"

He nods. I smile a little and raise a hand, running my thumb across his lips.

"Hm…poor Stephen, eh?" I tilt my head to the side. There is no remorse in my voice. "Okay…I'll…kiss it better…" Then I wink at him. "Or…lick it…better…"

He studies me and moans softly as I drop to my knees behind him. I know I'm supposed to be the one in control, and I still am. I can stop whenever I like. Hell, I could even toss off to satisfy myself and then just leave him there, tied up, horny as fuck, unable to relieve himself. That would be interesting…

I slide my tongue along the curve of his ass, pressing down over the red marks from where I whipped him. He whimpers in pain as I do so, but I don't stop. I run my tongue along it, following the trail of the belt, wetting the grazed skin, lapping up any tiny droplets of blood that have formed. Then I let my tongue slide between his cheeks, running it down. I hear him moan in pleasure so I press my tongue against his entrance. His back arches and he gasps. I moan, loving the noises I can get him to make. I run my tongue around his entrance for a while, before I slowly push it inside of him, grabbing hold of his cheeks with my hands, parting them to give me more room. He keeps moaning and tries to move his hands, but he's well bound. Under _my _control.

I play with him using my tongue for a little while until I retract it and stand up. At least he's prepared now. I grab his dick and pump it a few times, as I'm fully aware of how desperate and close he must be by now, even though he's incapable of telling me now that I've forced him to stay silent. He gasps and cries out so loud that the whole fucking village must be able to hear it. I don't care. I want everyone to know exactly how much control Brendan fucking Brady has.

With that last moan, he orgasms, and I feel his hot cum all over my hand. I laugh softly and remove my hand. I'm still not done with him yet, whether he's cum or not. I can make him cum again. He turns his head to look at me as he pants for air.

I raise my hand upwards and run my tongue along it, lapping up all of Stephen's cum that's there. He watches me, moaning softly, eyes wide, like it's the hottest thing he's ever seen. He takes fucking good. I've always loved the way he tastes. It was one of the first things I noticed, the first time we ever did anything. I visited him at his flat and once we'd got to the bedroom, I gave him head before we fucked. I remember thinking that he tasted so fucking good. He still does. Always has.

I keep licking at my hand, then I take two of my fingers into my mouth and suck all of the cum off them. Once my hands are clean (and wet), I retract them from my mouth and look at Stephen. He's hard again. Perfect. I use the same hand that I was licking moments ago to stroke Stephen's face softly, running my fingers down his cheek, leaving a trail of saliva there. Then I stroke his lips, and he licks my fingers a little as I do so. I laugh softly at how his want for me is obvious again.

I walk behind him and he follows me with his gaze, whimpering with need. I press the tip of my dick against his entrance and rub it softly, teasing him with the one thing we've both been waiting for all night. He breaks a rule and speaks. Even though he's so horny he can barely talk.

"…Bren…please…"

I tut and shake my head. My voice is low and gruff.

"That sounded like talking to me… Baaad Stephen…" I can't help but to use 'bad Stephen' as if he is a little child, but it doesn't really matter, shows I am in control, I guess.

He whimpers a little, as if he is scared that I'll stop. I can change my mood like that. But I'm not going to stop. I want him, _need _him too badly for that. Instead, I lift my hand and cover his mouth, pressing hard as I slide into him. We both moan simultaneously. I grip his hip with my other hand and start to thrust into him, digging my nails into the soft skin of his cheeks. We continue to moan in unison as I get into my rhythm, speeding up my thrusts, pushing deeper until I hit his prostate.

He cries out through my hand and I thrust harder, hitting his prostate with every movement, moaning at the feeling of hot, pressure around my dick. Once I'm certain that he won't try to squirm out of my rhythm, I let go of his hip and bring my hand up to his hair, pulling his head back roughly, removing my hand from his mouth and planting a deep, ferocious kiss on him. I slide my tongue into his mouth and I feel his push against mine. I bite his bottom lip, hard, as I continue my thrusts. I break the kiss and move the hand that was on his mouth to his throat, gripping it tightly.

He cries out louder now that he can, and I start to nibble and suck on the side of his neck, making sure to leave a deep, red mark there. Once I'm satisfied that he'll bruise there, like a mark of my ownership over him, I run my tongue across his neck. I, then, proceed to run it down his spine, tasting the beads of sweat forming and glistening there. I leave a trail of saliva to cool on his skin and remove my hand from his hair. I grip his dick and pump it in time with my thrusts, listening to the sound of his choked moans.

I could stay like this forever. Locked away in my bedroom, getting close to my orgasm, with Stephen at my mercy and under my control. The only man I'd want to spend forever with. The rest of the world outside, and I wouldn't have to worry about everyone finding out Brendan Brady's big, bad, disgusting secret. And I wouldn't have to worry about looking like the big man anymore, wouldn't have to worry about keeping people in check or controlling people, wouldn't have to worry about fighting with Foxy. It would just be me and Stephen, and hours of endless sex and just _nothing. _Peaceful, beautiful nothingness. Without the hell hole that we all call the world to weigh us down.

But my life _can't _be like that. It _can't. _So I'll make the most of the moments when it does get like that, make the most of the time I do have locked away from the world, and I just better hope that the secret stayed buried when I get out. And this moment is coming to an end, I can feel it, burning inside of me. And right now, I _want _it to end. And with that, I thrust with my full length, putting all my power and strength into trying to bring us to our climaxes.

He's letting out small, breathless, choked moans and I can always tell through this that he's close. I whisper softly to him as I let go of his throat.

"You can speak now…"

And he does. Fuck, he does, screaming out indecencies and mumbling things I can't even work out. He keeps shouting my name, telling me how good it feels. He's so loud. I'm glad that Cheryl's out, but I don't even care who else hears it. The only thing that matters right now, is that I have _control_. I have control and I'm the only one in the world who can make him sound and feel like this. The only one he wants to.

I feel my own orgasm approaching and I rest my forehead against his back, moaning helplessly. He tries to warm me that he's close, but he fails. He just mumbles and moans incoherently. It doesn't matter. I was expecting it. His muscle tightens around my dick and he cries out, his whole body jolting as he cums, hard, on my hand.

Three thrusts later and I join him in the white, hot, thoughtless bliss. My orgasm shoots right through me, reaching my whole body, every inch of me tensing up and tingling. I gasp and pant for air as I come down from my intense high.

Stephen does the same, gasping for air, letting out little moans with every breath. I eventually pull out of him, totally spent, and untie him. We move together to collapse on my bed, neither of us really able to do much else. He turns his head and looks at me. I look back.

"…you…really know…how to…control…a person…Bren…" He pants, still not totally able to breath regularly. I just shake my head a little. No more talking. I raise a finger to my lips and close my eyes.

"Shh…"

He stays quiet for a while.

Once we've both settled and regained out regular breathing, I start us off, talking. And we do that for most of the night. Lying in bed, talking about everything and nothing. When we first met, when we first 'noticed' each other, making jokes and just generally talking. Nothing to provoke either of us, and nothing too deep. It's too late and we're too tired for that. We talk until around seven in the morning, and eventually let sleep take us. It's short lived though, as we both have to be in work at nine.

I spend the rest of the day at work admiring him. He looks as if we fucked just moments ago. His lips are red and swollen from my ferocious bites and kisses, his cheeks have fingernail marks in them, he has a red handprint on his throat along with a deep red lovebite, his wrists are red and grazed and he squirms every time he sits. Oh, and he whimpers every time anything even brushes softly against his ass. Those grazes must have turned out pretty sore. It's pretty obvious he'd undergone a round of rough sex.

Although, my sleepy somewhat dreamy state must give our game away too. I'm barely in the room for the whole day. People have to keep calling me a few times for me to respond. Not to mention how I know I keep moaning ever so softly every time he bends over. We're both suffering from vicious aftershocks of the night before.

Not like I really care. Foxy is caught up with pampering Mitzeee, so I bet he wouldn't even notice anything was different if me and Stephen started discussing it right in front of him. All of the other staff are totally oblivious to the fact that me and Stephen are more than just colleagues, so I doubt they'd notice anything else. Chez has definitely clocked us though. She keeps giggling a bit every time me and Stephen look at each other and she's fully aware of Stephen's…injuries. She looks at them every time he goes near her. She even dares to give me a little, cheeky smile when he walks past me. Damn her.

And the last thing she says to me before she finishes for the night? Really, Cheryl?

"Be more careful with the wee boy next time, Bren…if ye get _too _overexcited, he could end up in hospital, the way you're going…" Then she laughs and leaves.

Kill.

Me.

Now.


End file.
